


Snarling Dragons and Singing Birds

by writingramblr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones AU - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Reference to Rape, Slow Burn, Very much inspired by UTCA, mild ooc ness, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by 'Until there Comes another' by Lunatic_Silver. A retelling of Sansa and Daenerys's stories with tragedy striking on both sides of the Narrow sea. </p><p>Evil Queen Cersei fears that Sansa will try and steal her throne, so she does the unthinkable.</p><p>Daenerys is growing ever older and needs to be wed, but who does her brother have in mind for her betrothed?</p><p>(Took massive plot turn from my original idea, and will be updated soon!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlsarewolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Until There Comes Another](https://archiveofourown.org/works/671652) by [girlsarewolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves). 



> This was begun before I knew anything about Lunatic_Silver's current hiatus, including that of writing or continuing her works. It bares a resemblance, I won't deny it. I was afraid she was leaving her story unfinished, and I couldn't have that. this was conceived and begun in the middle of the night, sometime in mid April. I stumbled upon her note about the hiatus way after i had begun writing. I liked the idea of telling the two girls stories, and even though Sansa isn't technically a princess, I picture her as one someday. the original summary had them meeting and becoming allies against the Lannisters, but I'm not sure how it will truely end. So for your viewing pleasure, here is the first chapter. Thank you for reading. Please also keep in mind I have only really watched the show, never touched the books, so characters are not going to be 100%. it's also AU, so there's that.  
> Enjoy.

Viserys Targaryen stood overlooking the balcony that led to his stunning view of the sparkling azure Narrow Sea. He felt agitated. His well known patience was running thin.

His younger sister Daenerys Targaryen would soon be eligible to be wed, and to a royal from another kingdom, preferably. Their kingdom was small, and kept safe only by the body of water that separated them from more savage lands.

He knew it was wrong, and even immoral, but he had a deep fondness for her and he despised the idea of some other man touching her. Even if said man could provide him an entire army. Nothing could compare to his sister. Her waist length silver blond hair reminded him of liquid moonlight. Their entire family had had it. Until he had their parents murdered in the night, by a hired assassin from another land. The assassin gladly and gleefully confessed the crime, while omitting the fact he was employed. This gave Viserys the perfect chance to be his sister’s protector and only living relative. She was completely under his control.

He heard soft footsteps behind him, and his handsome face twisted into a wicked smile.

“Sister.”

He wiped the smirk from his face and assumed a harmless calm expression as he turned to face her,

“What brings you here?”

Daenerys, or Dany, as he affectionately called her, looked frightened, timid even,

“Brother, I’m afraid.”

He frowned in concern, stepping forward to take her into his arms, relishing the feel of her smooth skin under his fingertips,

“What is the matter?”

She began to quake, and he felt wetness fall to his chest, she was crying.

“I’m coming of age in less than a month, and then I’ll be betrothed to some horrid old man and have to leave!”

He shook his head, and gently shushed her, pulling back to stroke her face, and pushed a damp strand of silver hair from her eyes,

“Nonsense. No sister of mine shall marry any man she does not wish to. Unless it is Jamie Lannister. That would be a fine match.”

She smiled and hiccupped with laughter,

“You can’t be serious. He’s twice my age, and most certainly not the marrying kind. Besides, he’s nearly a world away.”

Viserys glanced out across the courtyard to the shining waves again,

“A world away? With our ships, it would be only a week’s journey. Trifles.”

He smiled and looked down at her, and she frowned in confusion,

“Ships? But Brother, we have no ships.”

He lifted her chin with his finger until she was looking directly at him,

“Not yet. Soon we will. Then the entire world shall be ours.” Her violet eyes widened and she moved to embrace him again,

“I shall dream of that day brother.”

Her proximity to him was beginning to arouse him too deeply, and he stepped away, keeping a hand on her back, guiding her to the balcony to observe the quiet night, not yet ready to reveal his true plans to her.

She would indeed be his undoing.

***

Across the Narrow Sea, a regal queen stood looking not at the rolling ocean waves, but into a reflective silver mirror.

To anyone else, it was just a mirror. To her, it held the secrets and whispers of the future. It was an enchanted mirror, gifted to her father by a warlock he had crossed paths with before she had been born.

It had spoken to him, foretold the birth of her and her brother under a full harvest moon. Their mother had died giving birth to them. They had been preceded by a deformed child, who had been banished shortly after coming of age, and now was thought to live out amongst the wild lands.

Her father, Tywin Lannister, had given her the mirror the night before he was killed in a great battle. Whether he had known of his impending death, Cersei would never know. But she still regretted not thanking him for everything he’d done for her.

Queen Cersei ruled the Kings Landing with an iron fist. At least, that was what she dreamt of doing, once her fat and ugly husband the King had died. Soon he would. It would be arranged perfectly.

She would relish his death. He was a disgraceful husband. She had sought comfort with her dear twin brother Jamie, and it had turned into something equally disgraceful, but exceedingly more pleasurable.

By accident she become pregnant from him, and by chance had managed to bewitch her husband into thinking it was his child.

Whether by magic or through luck, the incest conceived child had turned out perfectly.

Joffrey Baratheon was the apple of his mother’s eye, and poised to become engaged to the eldest daughter of the Kings Hand, Sansa Stark.

Cersei grimaced as her thoughts turned to the Starks. She hated them all. Especially Sansa. She was young and beautiful. _Almost_ more beautiful than herself.

She turned to her mirror, and hissed quietly,

“Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

A shadow appeared in the center of the glass, and a deep voice filled the room, but only her ears could hear it.

“You are my queen. Fairest in the land. However, there is one who near you who is almost of age, and when she becomes eligible, she will outshine you as the sun does the moon.”

Cersei screeched and threw her empty wine goblet across the room. This was disastrous news!

There was only one thing she could do, break the girl’s spirit. She could not kill her, not until she had wed Joffrey and provided an heir. Then if she had an unfortunate accident, it would not matter.

“GUARDS!” she yelled, and two men quickly threw open the door, bowing to her,

“My Queen.” They recited in unison.

“Fetch me my king, I wish to speak to him about an urgent manner. A manner of treasonous consequences.”

“Yes my Queen.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, violent imagery.

Sansa sat patiently poking away at her needlework when she heard a commotion in the hallways. She set the fabric down, ignoring the chastisement of her nurse, and opened the door, turned to the sentry and inquired about the noise.

“It’s nothing Miss, stay in your room.”

Outraged, and stunned, she was forced to step back as the door slammed shut.

“What in the seven hells?”

Her nurse clucked her tongue,

“Best hope I don’t tell your father you curse like a soldier.”

Sansa glared at the woman,

“I don’t think you would tell him anything. He wouldn’t care anyhow. He’s got worse things to worry about than me.”

***

“Fetch me Ser Jorah! I wish to speak with him urgently.” Prince Viserys called out of his throne room, and his squire sprinted from the room to go find the knight and future hand of the king.

Ser Jorah Mormont entered the room speedily as he could, after being sent for. He entered the throne room, bowed to the prince, and as he looked back up he couldn’t help but ask curiously,

“Where is the princess?”

Viserys waved off his inquiry,

“She was not feeling well, so she is remaining in her room for the rest of the afternoon.”

Jorah knew very well it was none of his business, but he could not help but inquire as to her health again. Once the siblings had lost their parents, Jorah had felt a certain amount of protectiveness towards them. Viserys it seemed had outgrown it, whereas Jorah knew Daenerys still needed looking after.

Viserys shrugged,

“If you must know, she has started her moon blood. Soon she will need to be betrothed to a worthy king or prince regent. Can you think of anyone eligible?”

That was far more information than Jorah had been expecting, and had he been younger and greener, he might have blushed at such intimate knowledge about her royal highness. He nodded curtly, and carefully chewed on his tongue to keep from asking any more questions that would be answered much too candidly for his liking.

Viserys eyed Jorah warily, as he considered him his top advisor, perhaps he would indeed listen.

Jorah cleared his throat before replying,

“Your grace, is this what your sister wishes? To be married?” Jorah began, and already he could see the prince shaking his head,

“It’s not about what _she_ wants. She will do as she is told.”

The prince squinted at the stone floor, and his head fell into his hand, fingers massaging his temples. His white blond hair was falling out of the short ponytail and hiding his face.

“Perhaps if I could speak with her, she would tell me who she considers a worthy match.”

Before the prince could protest, Jorah continued,

“She might be more willing if she chose her own husband.”

Viserys shrugged non-committally. He still had one _particular_ monarch in mind, but he would let Dany hold on to her illusion of control.

“Very well. Go speak with her. Find out what she wants, and indeed, who she wants.”

Jorah bowed again,

“Yes your highness.”

The aging knight would never admit it, but sometimes in his dreams, usually brought on from excessive wine drinking, he would imagine _himself_ as the king. With Daenerys beside him as his queen. She would make some man a treasure of a wife.

***

Queen Cersei smiled tightly at Sansa’s father as he walked into the throne room, looking about in confusion.

“Where is King Robert?” Eddard Stark inquired in his deep gravelly voice.

Cersei gave him a dangerously calm smile,

“I killed him in his sleep last night. Have you not heard? I am the commanding monarch until my son Joffrey comes of age.”

Eddard looked shocked, and he drew his sword, pointing it directly at the Iron Throne in which Cersei sat.

“ _What did you say_?”

She smirked at him, any and all pretense gone,

“I killed the king. Now I shall kill you. I grow weary of this charade. I’ve changed my mind, as most women are want to do. Your daughter Sansa is not worthy of my son, and is too arrogant for her own good.”

Eddard’s face grew pained, and his voice almost sounded pleading, but Cersei knew better,

“Sansa has never been anything less than worshipful of you. She adores Joffrey and is loyal to the crown. Getting back to what you said, if it is true, I’m afraid I must inform you that you are wrong. In the event of the King’s death, the King’s hand is the temporary reigning commander, not you, my queen.”

Cersei waved her fingers at the dark corners of the room, and two soldiers sprang forth, bows drawn.

“I’m afraid there is nothing you can do Lord Stark. You are not in charge here, _I am_. The least you can do is die with some dignity. Don’t be over dramatic. It’s disgraceful.”

Before Eddard could get any closer to the Iron Throne, the two soldiers had loosed their arrows, one into each of his knees. He collapsed to the stone floor, dark pools of blood rapidly spreading from each leg.

“Why are you doing this?” he groaned out, his voice thick with pain.

She stood, and moved to stand in front of him,

“So that I could have the pleasure of seeing you kneel before me. It is your rightful place. It shall also give me great pleasure to inform your daughter as to what has transpired. Tell me, shall I kill her before or after Arya? I cannot decide. Ah, and I seem to have forgotten Cat. Dear lovely Cat. Shall I send her a raven? Invite her to a grand feast in honor of Sansa and Joffrey’s engagement? What a pity you won’t be able to attend. Goodbye Ed Stark. I disliked every moment I spent in your presence.”

As he collapsed to his hands and knees, he was still fighting for every breath, knowing that every heartbeat drove more life blood from his veins.

She moved to kneel beside him, gripping his hair in her fist tightly, pulling his ear close to her mouth, as she whispered,

“Did I tell you Jamie was the one responsible for Bran’s death? Your poor little boy saw something he shouldn’t have. Pity he had to die for our secret. Jamie and mine. You see Stark, we’re lovers. My brother and I. People would say that’s unnatural, but he and I have always been closest to each other. We couldn’t let a scrawny, over curious boy destroy that.”

She threw away his body from her own, and gestured to the guards, who quickly moved forward,

“Take him to the dungeons and leave him to rot. I’m sick of looking at him. Die in agony Ned Stark, and know your line ends with your family.”

She gave him a twisted smile, and he had no words in reply.

She stood, returned to sit on the throne, and sat back wearily, as if she had just fought a battle.

It was exhausting dealing with traitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited for clarification. thank you eagle eyed reader!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally a solo Daenerys chap....  
> the pov switching annoys even me, fyi.

Jorah reached the door that led to Princess Daenerys’ chamber, and knocked gently.

“Coming!” a cool yet sweet voice called, and he felt himself tense.

He could not let himself be distracted by futile daydreams, or even his nightmares, as that was what they most resembled.

The door flew inward, and there she stood, in all her pale skinned, glistening silver haired glory. She was wearing a beautiful sheer silk dress, the color of the sky at dawn, which unfortunately left very little to Jorah’s imagination.

“Did my brother need me? Or has he sent you to urge me to eat something? I feel fine, honestly I do.” Her violet eyes were wide, and she seemed to be trying to appeal to him, to reassure him. She smiled dreamily at him, and he gritted his teeth momentarily before replying,

“Your grace, my princess. Your brother has sent me to see you, but not for any reason or need of his. He wishes me to speak with you about your impending nuptials.”

Daenerys had moved away from the door in a swirl of peach silk, her hands wringing together in an unconsciously anxious manner. Jorah entered the room, and shut the door carefully. When he had finished speaking, she moved to face him. Her hair fluttered slightly in the gentle evening breeze as her mouth fell agape,

“What?”

Jorah stepped over to the balcony, trying not to meet her eyes,

“He says since you have become a woman truly, you must now further the line.”

She laughed, and the sound reminded Jorah of the tinkling of wind chimes that hung in the street markets.

“What can he be thinking? A little blood doesn’t make me a woman, much less ready to be wed. I don’t wish to leave my castle and live in some foreign land with some fool who thinks I will make his life fulfilling because I warm his bedchamber.”

Jorah’s eyebrows rose in surprise, his Princess was more knowledgeable in things of a carnal nature than he could have dreamed. Alright, so perhaps he had _dreamed_ of such a thing.

“My Princess, you should not speak of such things. And though it may seem harsh, it is the accepted view that blood _does_ make you a woman in the eyes of men. But you must know, your brother only wants the best for you.”

Daenerys cocked a silver brow at him,

“I should not? Why? I am the Princess, someday Queen. I shall speak my mind. If I wish to speak of what occurs on ones wedding night I shall.” When Jorah’s calm eyes met her now icy gaze, she couldn’t keep from blushing. Brave as though she may have acted, she was rather embarrassed about her moonblood, and the fact her brother, and by default, her own knight was aware of such an occurrence. Why had her brother seen fit to tell him? So she could be lectured and dictated at by _two_ men?

While the night air began to cool her flushed cheeks, she felt it dissipate her righteous indignation as well. She stepped out onto the balcony to stand beside Jorah.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so bold. But it angers me when he tries to tell me what to do, or try to convince me what is best for me.” ‘And when he sends you to further his cause, because I will actually listen to you.’ She added silently.

Jorah half smiled at her, and shrugged,

“I don’t have to tell him what we really spoke of, if you command it of me.”

Truthfully, the knight would prefer an entirely different set of commands from his Princess, but he would settle for keeping her secrets safe.

Daenerys watched him carefully, and his solemn green eyes never wavered as she spoke,

“Tell him we discussed all the available princes and kings across the Narrow Sea, until your throat went dry, and I needed to pour you a glass of wine. Then tell him I swooned as I imagined where the wedding would take place.”

Jorah nodded, fighting back a smile at her cleverness, and then looked about the room,

“Might we make that the truth? Have you any wine?”

Daenerys laughed again,

“Yes of course, why didn’t I think of that? Let’s toast to my future wedding.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More violent imagery.
> 
> and a wee bit of SanSan for ya'll.

Cersei enjoyed the looks of confusion and bewilderment on the two Stark boy’s faces. Robb looked concerned, and Jon, well, he always looked that lost. Being a Bastard son and having no true home if your one parent decided to turn you out would do that.

“Gentleman, thank you for seeing me at such an early hour.”

The Queen had rested overnight to replenish her strength, and also because she had a weakness and certain fondness for bed hair on men, even if they weren’t Jamie. She could not deny the handsome features that stared back at her. Though they were twisted with the familiarity of Eddard Stark.

“Please, come closer.”

Robb was the first to notice something was off,

“Where’s the king? Why are _you_ on the throne?”

Jon looked about, coming to the same conclusion.

Cersei smiled, rather like a lion would before consuming its trapped prey,

“I killed the king. Didn’t your father tell you? Oh wait, I killed him too. Last night.”

She sat back in the throne, waiting for it to sink in.

Disbelief, and outrage were the primary emotions that flashed across both boys’ faces first. Then they began to curse and move towards her.

She raised a hand, much like she had the night before, and this time half a dozen guards appeared to restrain the boys.

“Tsk-tsk, don’t you know it’s treasonous to attack your Queen?”

Jon snarled at her like his pathetic wolf pet,

“You are not _my_ Queen.”

Robb nodded, echoing his brothers’ sentiments without speaking a word.

She raised her golden blond eyebrows in surprise,

“Nothing from the true Stark Heir? No insults? I must say I’m disappointed. I thought you had such potential, such fire that would melt the very ice of the Northern Wall.”

Robb glared at her, but refused to say anything. Cersei shrugged, before rising from the throne to approach them both. She ignored Jon as she walked by him, though he struggled against his restraints.

She stopped directly in front of Robb, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek. He flinched away, and she smiled again,

“Never felt the touch of a woman besides your sisters and your mother? What a pity. . . I’m sure you’d break many hearts. But perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t. I could have lost my heart to a boy like you once.”

“I am not a boy!” Robb finally graced her with the use of his voice, and she laughed in his face,

“Yes, yes you are. A foolish one to come to the throne room unarmed.”

She stepped away from him, and stood before Jon, carefully eyeing his face and pausing at his unruly dark hair. Most definitely not like his step-mothers, or even the shade of his fathers. All from his blood mother.

She would have run her hand through it, but Jon whipped his head up and would have hit her in the jaw had she not pulled away quickly.

“Oh my! You have some fight in you. Such a shame it has to go to waste. I’m tired of looking at you both. Frankly, you’re too good looking. But neither of you could compare to my Jamie in any way that matters, of that I am certain. When he returns to the castle, from his journey to Winterfell, I am sure he will have news your sisters will find of some interest.”

Robb frowned,

“What do you mean? And why do you say that, compared to ‘your’ Jamie?”

Cersei tsked sympathetically,

“You truly do not know? I guess Bran really did pass before he could remember anything of use. My brother and I, we are, well, how can I put this for your delicate ears? We are as a husband and wife. He has just followed his Queen’s orders to kill Catelyn Stark. It is auspicious Bran died last year; I’d hate to have to make Jamie kill a child. I suppose your youngest brother Rickon was also fortunate to die at such a young age from, the plague was it?” The furious looks on the elder Stark boys face confirmed her guess, and Cersei smiled in a mockery of sadness,

“It seems she committed treason by associating with Ned Stark. Or was it Ned Stark committed treason so his entire family needed to be executed? I can never remember. No matter. Say hello to your parents for me.”

With a wave of her fingers, the guards restraining the Stark brothers reached forward and slit their throats.

She moved away so the blood they coughed and sputtered onto the stone floor would not stain her dress. It was such a beautiful one, the dress she had worn the first night she had slept with Jamie. It held many good memories. She smiled at the thought of seeing him again soon, as the floor below the Iron Throne once again swam with Stark blood.

***

Sansa was nearly hysterical. She had been confined to her room for nearly two days straight. She had been provided food, if a crust of dried bread could be called that, and a skin of water, but had not seen or heard from any members of her family in all that time. She knew her father had been on his way to see the King and Queen, but she had hoped he would return to her that night, at least to kiss her forehead and tuck her in.

It wasn’t like him to forget. She stood up, her back sore and her neck tired from trying to concentrate on her reading. She moved to the door, and knocked on it.

It creaked and groaned as it swung outward, and she jumped as the Hound came into view.

Sandor Clegane, better known throughout the castle and the realms beyond Kings Landing as the Hound, was standing guard. For what reason, she did not know. Perhaps it had been Joffrey’s idea. He was so kind. He spoiled her with his affection. The thought of her prince made her smile, and when the Hound asked why she had bade him open her door, she started again.

“Please sir, have you heard anything from my father? I was supposed to see him last evening.”

Sandor growled,

“Don’t call me ‘Ser,’ I am no Ser. How should I know what your father does? I am not his keeper. However, I am yours. If you want to know, I shall send a squire to fetch him. Will that satisfy you?”

Sansa nodded meekly, and stood back as the Hound swung the door shut again with a loud thud.

She went over to collapse on her small bed, her mind awhirl with possibilities as to what could have delayed her father.

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dueling pov's...

When the squire returned with a hand written note from Queen Cersei herself, Sandor frowned at the boy’s retreating footsteps. The note explained exactly what had happened, and how he was to inform the Stark girl. It seemed Cersei had gotten some strange notion killing the Stark family would break the red haired Stark girl. Why on earth she would come up with such a plan was beyond Sandor. Either way he knew that he could not express any sort of dissent or disagreement. The note also explained that the youngest Stark girl, Arya, had managed to elude capture thus far.

Cersei was worried she would get beyond Kings Landing , or possibly die in the wilds. She wanted the satisfaction of killing the child herself.

The Hound had seen many battles, and scores of dead men, most put there by himself, but never had he killed a child. He could not condone this sort of action.

 

He informed Sansa Stark of merely the facts, just as his Queen had commanded. When she burst into tears and ran at him, beating his chest with her fists, he stood still as a statue. Her blows felt like feathers brushing across his skin. She could do him no harm.

When she finally stopped, and fell to the ground, exhaustion and grief having claimed all of her energy, Sandor had come to a decision. Whatever the Queens plans for the girl, he could not stand by and let her be killed. Her father had been no coward, nor her brothers, yet they had been killed in cold blood, and given no chance for upholding their honor.

He knelt down and roughly gripped the girls arms, pulling her to her feet.

“Wipe your tears, gather your things. You must be gone by sunrise, do you hear me? If the Queen suspects I have helped in your escape, I will die. But you must go, get word to another kingdom, anyone who does not swear loyalty to the Lannisters. _Do you understand me girl?”_

Sansa’s face was still streaked with tears, and her eyes were red from crying, but she nodded, and he loosened his grip on her arms, shoving her towards the center of the room, before letting go of her completely.

“I will stop anyone who tries to go after you, or who may stop you in the halls. After you leave the castle, you will be on your own. Do you think you can manage?”

Sansa nodded silently, and the Hound growled,

“That’s not an answer. Answer me!”

“Yes ser.”

Sandor decided to overlook her improper title for him this time, nodded, and quickly left her room.

***

The next day dawned brightly in the Targaryen kingdom across the Narrow Sea, and the prince and princess dined on fresh sweet fruit, and ripe salty cheeses.

Daenerys finished first and set her utensils down carefully, before looking over to get her brothers attention.

When he didn’t move his eyes from his own plate, she cleared her throat,

“Brother? Did Ser Jorah tell you about our conversation last night?”

Viserys smirked down at his plate momentarily before regaining his composure,

“Yes Dany. He did. Have you arrived at a conclusion? Who do you wish to marry this summer?”

Daenerys gulped, and suddenly her mouth felt as dry as the distant sands of the shore.

“I had not arrived at any conclusion last night. Did he tell you otherwise?”

Viserys smiled at her,

“No Dany, I had merely hoped that during the night perhaps you had decided on something. The sad truth is, there are only two men in the entire kingdom worthy of your hand, but neither can be the one you choose.”

Daenerys silver brows met in confusion and her brother elaborated,

“Khal Drogo, my army commander. He would be perfect, were he a king. And of course myself. Such a pity we are related by blood.”

Daenerys’ eyes widened in shock, not from the mention of her brothers army general, who did scare her indeed, but the fact he was considering _himself_ amongst her future contenders for husband to be.

“Surely you must be joking Viserys.”

He grinned at her, before popping a bright green grape into his mouth, his white teeth flashing at her as they demolished the fruit,

“Certainly. I wouldn’t want you to accidentally be crushed beneath that giant during your wedding night.”

Daenerys smiled and tried to laugh, albeit with a tremor in her voice,

“No. I meant about you. You don’t actually think I could marry you.”

Viserys shrugged,

“Why not? We already control the kingdom, we could easily take command of the entire realm. With Drogo as my commander, we could even cross the Narrow Sea and take the dirt beyond.”

Daenerys laughed again weakly,

“There is no dirt beyond the Narrow Sea, you know that.”

Her brother merely raised his eyebrows at her before replying,

“I do believe you are avoiding answering the question, dear sister.”

She was.

“What question was that?”

Viserys grinned at her, rather predatorily this time,

“Will you marry me? Take the throne? Wear the crown of the Targaryen’s? Rule beside me with an iron fist, but a gentle spirit?”

He stood, pushing his chair back swiftly, and before Dany could blink, he had knelt beside her chair, pulling from his tunic pocket a small woven box. She gripped the sides of her chair until she heard the wood creak, all the while she desperately tried to tell herself she was still dreaming.

The box opened, and inside was a roughly hewn band of silver, surrounding a bright perfect pearl.

“What do you think? Fit for a Queen?”

Viserys’s voice had gone low, almost husky. Daenerys found herself wishing that he had been anyone else in the world proposing to her in that moment, for they would not have caused her stomach to turn over, waves of sickness to cause her to shake, and threaten to bring back up her breakfast.

She forced her eyes closed, and shook her head roughly,

“No! This is wrong.”

When she dared to peek out from under her eyelashes, she gasped. Viserys was inches from her, his hands slowly reaching up to cup her cheeks, and his thumb brushed away a tear that had fallen from her eye.

“Don’t cry. There’s nothing wrong with this. Our ancestors had to do it to preserve the purity of the bloodline. We are all dragons. We are descended from the fire breathers themselves.”

Daenerys was unsure she had the strength to fight her brother off if he decided to press his suit, and all she could think of was the cutlery. But she didn’t want to hurt him, merely stop this madness.

When his face moved towards hers, and his eyes fell closed, his lips parted slightly, and as she could feel his breath on her skin, she quickly moved.

The spoon was hardly sharp, but it did the job she wanted. She drove it into his side, and he shouted in pain, falling to the ground, and instantly releasing her from his embrace.

She stepped away from him and stared sadly at his prostrate form.

“I’m sorry.”

Viserys glared up at her, and his face was no longer kind and gentle, but twisted, and angry,

“You little bitch! How dare you? Just wait until I get on my feet. You will be sorry!”

“I’m sorry brother.” Daenerys said again quietly, before taking off, running towards her chambers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bit in all italics pertains to both girl's pov's.

_Her thoughts were scattered, and she could barely see straight. Tears blurred her vision as she packed the first traveling pouch she could find. She had no idea what would happen if she didn’t escape, all she knew was she needed to leave that place. She needed to go somewhere safe._

_Once she was outside the castle walls, she would figure out where to go next._

***

“Bring me the Hound!” Queen Cersei shrieked at her brother, and he winced at the octave of her voice. Jamie disliked when his sister was angry. It always made him feel slightly irritable himself. Perhaps it was a connection between them, as a result of being twins.

“Yes Sister. One moment. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

Cersei sat back on the throne, resting her head upon her hands. When she had discovered not one, but both of the Stark girls had escaped the castle walls, to say she had been angry would be an understatement.

She was _furious._

She was _outraged._

That little red haired witch who dared to steal the crown of beauty from her was still _alive._

The Hound would rectify the situation for her.

 

Thundering footsteps filled the hall and the tall broad shouldered man strode into the throne room, before briefly falling to one knee before her.

Cersei smiled tightly,

“Hound, I have need for your combat and fighting skills.”

Sandor looked up and looked steadily at his Queen. As far as he could tell, she did not suspect him of helping Sansa escape.

“My Queen. Whatever you wish, I will do what you ask.”

Cersei nodded, relieved to finally hear someone useful was still loyal.

Jamie, who had returned on the Hound’s heels, stood in the corner of the room, trying to keep from looking too annoyed. He would prefer to be the one she sent, he needed to prove himself to her after she had disposed of most of the Starks without his help.

“What I wish is not important. What I command is. I command you to follow the Stark girl, and when she reaches Kingswood, I want you to kill her. Send me a raven after it is done. And then bring me her heart as proof. ”

Cersei sat back in the throne, eyeing the Hound carefully, watching for any hint he would try to disobey her. She knew he had his own rule about killing children.

Sandor bowed shallowly again, and nodded,

“Yes my Queen. It shall be done.”

The Hound took his leave from the throne room, and Jamie swept forward, falling at his sister’s feet.

“Let me go with him, to make sure it is done. I will also lead the charge to find the younger Stark.”

Cersei set her hand on his head, which now rested on her knees. She stroked his hair and absentmindedly destroyed his usual style with her fingers.

“No. I wish for you to stay here. The younger Stark bitch will die of thirst and starvation long before she reaches the Kingswood.”

Jamie sighed, before nodding,

“Of course. You’re right. You’re always right.”

Cersei smiled down at him,

“Yes my love, I am.”

***

Daenerys was still running, and she could start to feel the heaviness of her bag. She was by no means the strongest woman in the kingdom, but she was not weak either.

She finally stopped, and leaned heavily against a tree, trying to catch her breath. The warm air from the day was beginning to dissipate and grow chilled. The further she got from the castle and the coastline, the colder it would get. She knew she would need to make camp for the night soon. She was beginning to wish she had thought to take the time to steal a horse, but she had been too afraid of getting caught by Khal Drogo, or any of his savage warriors.

Suddenly she felt the ground itself begin to rumble. She looked towards the skies, but there was no sign of a storm. She realized with horror as the noise grew louder it was the sound of hoof beats!

Had Viserys come after her? Or had he sent his army for her?

She shuddered at the thought of being found by Khal Drogo.

“Princess!”

The deep voice that called out her name did not belong to Viserys’ General. It was Ser Jorah Mormont!

Daenerys stepped out from behind the tree she had been crouched behind, and stood tall,

“Yes?”

Jorah looked around and spotted her, his face was grim, and lined with concern.

“What have you done? What were you thinking? You cannot survive out here alone.”

The Princess held her head high, and asked haughtily,

“Why not? Do you think I am incapable of taking care of myself?”

Jorah frowned,

“No, but I do think you are foolish for not informing me of your plans.”

Daenerys’ grim and stoic expression rapidly deteriorated. She did not possess the strength to lie to him.

“I did not plan this. I did not plan for my brother trying to propose to me, nor that he would seduce me at our breakfast table.”

Jorah looked pained. As if perhaps he had suspected this would have happened.

Daenerys tried once again to keep her brave face, but her arms suddenly seemed to give out, and her bag fell from her grasp.

Her voice was strained, and it almost sounded like a gasp,

“I may stop and rest for a bit. But do not think I cannot take care of myself.”

Jorah dismounted from his horse, and led it over to a sturdy tree, before securing it and coming to stand before his Princess.

“I would only ask that you consider the facts. I have now left your brother, and have become as much of an outlaw as you. The next thing he will do is try to reclaim what he has lost. By force. I think you understand what that means.”

Daenerys felt weak in the knees. By force? That was all her brother ever did. Except when with her. Until now. Until that morning. He never awakened the dragon in her presence. She had seen only a glimpse of it before fleeing, and she was more afraid of it than ever before.

She felt Jorah’s hand on her shoulder, but could no longer see him. It was as if great white spots were overtaking her sight.

“Is it snowing Ser Jorah?”

Jorah gripped her shoulder more tightly,

“What?”

Daenerys’ vision had become unfocussed, and Jorah could tell she was no longer able to truly see him.

“Are you alright Princess?”

“I feel, dizzy.”

Those were the last words to leave her mouth before her vision completely failed her, and her legs gave out.

It was pure luck that Jorah caught the movement of her eyelids and leaned over just in time to catch her. She had fainted. Either from exhaustion or from the realization of her entire situation, he could not be sure. All that mattered was he needed to get her somewhere safe. The area of forest they were in could not be secured. They needed to make camp on a hill.

Jorah carefully set the Princess down on the moss covered ground, before securing her bag to his horse.

“Sorry. We’ll need to keep going.” He mumbled to the horse, which nickered softly, and shook its head, so that the silvery white mane fluttered in the night air. It reminded Jorah of how Daenerys had looked the night before, standing on the balcony in her chamber, looking so trusting and innocent.

What an eventful day the Princess had had.

Jorah retrieved her from where she lay on the ground, and began leading the horse, walking as swiftly as he could with such precious cargo.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a parallel to the last on purpose.   
> and the next chapter will need a strong mantra "AU, AU, AU, AU..."

Sansa was confused, and possibly quite lost. The trees all looked the same in the Kingswood, and when the sun began to set, she started to shiver. Her tear streaked face grew chilled, and she sniffled, trying desperately to stop crying.

She held only a small sack of her belongings, including the last doll her father had given her before his death. She would treasure that until she died. Unfortunately, that no longer seemed a distant event.

When a flock of raven took off nearby, their loud screeches startled her, and she stumbled to the ground. Her dress was now ruined, streaked with dirt and mud, and she felt exhausted. She could not go much further without food. Why had the Hound not thought to provide some bread or water?

Suddenly she was cursing herself for not packing the stale crusts she’d been lamenting over just hours before.

She felt herself shaking, but it wasn’t from the cold, not yet. She was a Stark of Winterfell, she did not chill easily. She began to realize the ground itself was shaking, with thunderous footfalls of an approaching horse.

She knew horses did not go far beyond Kings Landing without a rider. This had to be someone who was sent after her.

She scurried to her feet, and started debating which tree she could climb. She had seen her little brother Bran climb a thousand trees.

A good foothold was the essential starting point.

Before she had even begun to test branches, she heard her name.

“Sansa!”

It sounded like the Hound! Why had he come after her? She had left at _his_ insistence.

“Where are you girl? If you can hear me, speak up.”

Sansa gulped and moved away from the large tree trunk, and the Hound came into her line of sight, perched atop a midnight colored stallion, which impatiently walked around in a circle.

“Seven hells girl. Why didn’t you answer me?”

Sansa raised and lowered her shoulders.

“Forgive me Ser.”

Sandor frowned at the red haired child,

“I am no Ser. How many times must I tell you? The Queen has sent me after you.”

Sansa smiled briefly,

“She wishes me to return?”

Sandor grimaced, an easily fierce expression with his damaged face,

“No. She wishes you dead as well. I’m to kill you and return to Kings Landing with your heart as proof.”

Sansa gasped, and felt the organ speed up within her chest.

“Kill me? What have I done? She killed my family.”

Sandor shrugged,

“How should I know? What she doesn’t know is that I will not be returning with anyone’s blood on my hands. We should make for your mothers kingdom. At least, what was her kingdom.”

Sansa raised her eyebrows in shock,

“You will escort me to the Riverlands?”

Sandor nodded briskly, and then gestured to the forest,

“Are you lost? You’re headed the wrong way if you’re trying to get away from Kings Landing.”

Sansa felt herself become near tears again,

“I’ve just been going in circles for hours. I’m thirsty and I think I’ve torn my dress.”

The Hound refrained from rolling his eyes at the Stark girls whining. She had never known anything but comfort all her life and it wouldn’t do to make her feel worse than she did.

“Well then, pick up your sack and climb on the horse behind me.”

Sansa gaped at him. She had never been a proficient rider. Arya had always teased her about that, until she shut her up with a well placed insult.

How she missed her sister now. She would happily let Arya best her in everyday tasks if it meant seeing her again.

“Hurry up now child, we haven’t got all day.”

Sansa nodded numbly, and knelt to retrieve her rucksack, before stepping gingerly closer to the dark colored horse.

“Well come on. He won’t bite.”

Sandor could see the girl hesitating, so he reached down and gripped her upper arm, and she was able to stick a small foot on top of his own and provide enough leverage. She fell into the saddle with a huff, and quickly put her arms around him tightly, clearly afraid of the height.

“Hold tight now.” He told her, somewhat sarcastically, as she showed no sign of loosening her grip.

“Now let’s see how fast Stranger will ride. Ya!”

He dug his heels into the horse’s side and they were off, speeding away from Kings Landing towards the Riverlands.


	8. Chapter 8

Daenerys awoke with a groan, inside a darkened room, and the floor beneath her felt rough as dragon scales. Had she fallen out of bed in the middle of the night onto the floor? She certainly felt that way. Her bones ached and she winced as she pressed a hand to her side, the side she must have hit on the way down.

“Mona? Where are you? Draw the drapes please. But, slowly. My head feels as if I consumed an entire flask of blood wine.”

A deep chuckle answered her, and she moved quicker than she thought possible, scrabbling around the floor for her dagger she concealed underneath the mattress.

She found no such weapon, in fact, there was no mattress beneath her. When a rustling sound moved away from her, and the room was flooded with light, she gasped.

She was not in her room. She was not alone, and she was nowhere she recognized.

“What happened?”

“My princess, you have fled your kingdom, have you forgotten what your brother tried to do?”

The deep gravelly voice, from whom the previous amused laugh had originated belonged to Ser Jorah, her brothers’ loyal knight.

When she stood and moved to look out the mouth of the cave, the previous day’s events came rushing back.

“Oh yes, I see. So where are we exactly?”

Jorah squinted out into the morning sunshine, and shrugged,

“As far as I can tell, we’re about another day’s journey from Qarth. That is if we don’t get lost on the way.”

Daenerys smirked,

“You wouldn’t be implying your sense of direction is failing you?”

Jorah managed a smile,

“No Princess, but if our mount gives out, it will be a much longer journey walking than riding.”

Daenerys cocked a silver brow,

“How far did we come? How long have you let me sleep?” she was trying her best not to show it, but it was rather frightening not being in complete control of her world, and the fact that her brother would not simply let her leave had her a bit on edge.

“We have not been pursued, as far as I can tell. You slept almost three sun cycles, but I thought perhaps you could use the rest.”

Daenerys rolled her violet eyes in frustration,

“’As far as I can tell?’” she mimicked, crossing her arms before her chest,

“What nonsense is that? You would know if we were being followed, armies are not quiet.”

Jorah hissed angrily between his teeth, letting his growing impatience and hunger become the better of him,

“You think your brother is so stupid as to send hundreds or thousands after you? No. I believe he will have sent one assassin. One is enough. If the man fails, your brother won’t have to pay him. If he succeeds, whatever his orders, it’s only one bounty to grant.”

Daenerys felt an involuntary shiver go down her spine, if Ser Jorah was correct, than whoever Viserys had sent after her, they might not see coming until it was too late.

Jorah seemed to come to the same conclusion as he turned back to meet her stare.

“We should move.”

Daenerys nodded, and moved to pack up any blankets or provisions, but found none.

“Did neither of us think to bring food?”

Jorah shrugged,

“I have gone much longer without food. Water however, is required. I do have a skin, but it is nearing empty. We must reach Qarth by nightfall, or we will not live much longer.”

Daenerys sighed heavily,

“Of course. Now you tell me.”

“You didn’t need food as you slept, so that’s also part of the reason I allowed it.”

Daenerys arched her right brow at him again, this time in indignation,

“’You allowed?’ I am your princess. You do not _allow_ me anything. I could have you killed on the spot.” She tried to look fierce, but as he gazed down at her, she couldn’t hold the expression,

“By whom? There is no one here but you and me. And perhaps your invisible assassin, hiding behind those rocks.”

Daenerys fought with every fiber of her strength not to turn and look, and simply accept the hand Ser Jorah offered, before leaping onto her horses back.

He followed swiftly, and they took off at a swift gallop.

“We’ll make it. No problem.”

“Of course my princess.”

Jorah tried to sound confident, and succeeded. But he couldn’t help the strange feeling that they were indeed being followed.

 *

The black cloak garbed figure that emerged from behind said rock cluster several moments after they had taken off, leaving behind a cloud of dust and dirt growled in anger.

He had been so close. He could have taken out the knight with his bare hands, or a well aimed spear. But the second that silver haired waif had stepped into the sunlight, he had lost all ability to think. He was a warrior, he usually commanded several thousand men, and he had no need for thinking. But thinking was required to aim properly, and he missed his chance. Now he had to follow the two fugitives and kill them both to claim his reward.

No one escaped Khal Drogo.


	9. Chapter 9

“Wake up girl! You cannot sleep any longer. We must begin moving now. We cannot stay in these woods. There are tales of a one-eyed monster who roams the mossy ground, who feeds on human flesh. I care not for wives tales, but I have only my sword, and I cannot protect us both and Stranger.”

When the red haired girl didn’t answer, Sandor reached down and smacked her bottom. She was lying across Strangers back, and over his legs, so that she wouldn’t fall off, he had one arm draped over her shoulders. Not the comfiest situation, but when one was tired, they found they could sleep in any position.

Sansa awoke with a squeak and a yelp as she realized where she was.

“Why did you hit me?”

Sandor growled in annoyance,

“Because you were dead to the world girl. I need you to sit up and resume a proper riding position. We have been going in circles for the last hour and I need you to climb a tall tree, as soon as I spot one.”

Sansa spluttered and protested. She was not the climber, Bran was. Arya might have been second best. She’d only been considering it when it meant possibly escaping death.

Even in an emergency she had barely gotten a foot off the ground, much less up the entire trunk.

“Don’t argue with me girl. Lest you lose that pretty face of yours to the monster.”

Sansa shivered at the thought, and gulped. She prayed the horse would never stop moving, but even as she squeezed her eyes shut, its movement ceased.

“Here we are. This looks good. Down you go.”

Sandor had already dismounted before Stranger had stopped moving, and when Sansa lifted an eyelid open, she saw the Hound’s large hands reaching up for her.

She hit the ground with a bit less than her usual grace, and tried not to wince. Her left ankle was a bit sore, but perhaps it was still half asleep.

“Now, go at it. I’ll keep watch. Just tell me if you see the tower from your aunt’s castle. No matter how small it is, if you see something that is most definitely not made of wood, yell.”

Sansa looked up at the tree and could have fainted if Sandor hadn’t been right beside her, mumbling about how he shouldn’t have taken the job of working for the Lannisters, the bunch of warlocks and murderers.

“What was that first thing you said?” Sansa asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Sandor pinned her with an angry stare,

“Never you mind. Now get climbing!”

Luckily the tree had a decent amount of branches, and Sansa would have begrudgingly thanked Sandor for his choice in trees, had she been more brave.

She moved carefully and much slower than Sandor would have liked, but eventually reached the topmost branch, and finally her vision cleared from the green and brown blur that it had been filled with.

“I see something! It looks like a small bone, but it also looks grey. Not a tree.”

Sansa called down, and she heard Sandor cough before replying,

“That’s good news. Now you better get back down here so we can reach the Riverlands by nightfall. Which direction is it? Quick now.”

Sansa squinted up at the sun, which shone as warm and hot as the fires back in Kings Landing.

“It’s to the left of the sun.”

Sandor nodded thoughtfully to himself,

“Good. That’s the only direction we had left to try.”

When Sansa finally touched down to the forest floor, she almost collapsed in relief.

“Good work. Now we know climbing trees runs in your blood. What do you think of that little bird?”

Sansa managed a weak smile, and pretended she didn’t like the sound of the Hounds new nickname for her.

She would not be accomplishing that feat again, not without a smaller tree for practice.

“I suppose you’re right Ser.”

Sandor merely rolled his eyes at the girl, figuring it was only fair if she wished to make fun of him, after what she had managed. He hadn’t expected her to get very far up the trunk, but she had surprised him.

“Hop up. “ Sandor lifted her carefully onto Strangers back, and he mounted behind her, gripping the reins tightly,

“It’s time we get you somewhere safe.”

Sansa wasn’t going to argue with that. She just hoped and prayed to the gods, old and new, that Arya was somewhere safe.

***

Viserys slouched in his chair, which was placed directly overlooking the balcony, and the silvery moonlight illuminated the court below.

He traced his chin with his hand, and wondered if his warrior commander had been able to find his sister and that traitor of a knight yet.

He couldn’t wait until they were brought home. He was going to make dear sweet Daenerys wish she had never spoken a word out of line, much less dared to raise a hand against him.

He wasn’t sure what he would do with Mormont. Beheading him would be too easy. He needed to suffer.

Viserys had long suspected the knight had a bit of an overt fondness towards his sister, and so perhaps that would be a way to cause him pain.

Should he have Khal Drogo claim her? Somewhere the knight could easily see. Or should he do the honors himself? Send a doubly strong message to them both.

Either way, he had plenty of time to decide what to do about the problem.

Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

Then again, he was to be a king, THE king of the seven Kingdoms. If things were too easy he would suspect something was not right with the world.


	10. Chapter 10

Sandor realized his charge had fallen asleep, leaning slightly against his chest, and he grunted. Not completely out of annoyance, but rather envy. To be able to sleep like that, the Stark girl, his little Bird, must have been extremely tired.

Already they were nearing the Riverlands, as evidenced by the softening ground beneath Strangers hooves.

If horses could speak, Stranger would have been likely praising his master for bringing him to such a comforting place. It wasn’t often that members of the Kingsguard could have time off, and even though this was no such occasion, Sandor liked to pretend he might have come to this part of the realm on his own time, and of his own free will, not simply because his charge was safest there.

He realized that she would need to speak for them, as the House Tully might not look too favorably on a Kingsguard whose former ruler had just murdered their next of kin.

Sandor Clegane was not often unnerved, nor hardly scared, unless faced with fire, but the idea of walking into a death trap did not appeal to him.

Reluctantly, he reached up, and gently shook Sansa’s arm,

“We’re nearly there. I need you to wake up.”

Sansa felt the grip on her arm, and though it didn’t hurt, she awoke disoriented and frightened.

“What? Where? Ouch. Stop. Please. You’re hurting me.”

Sandor released her instantly, unaware he had been tightening his hand as he heard and felt her stir.

“We’re at the Riverlands. You’re mothers’ sister’s home. I will need you to speak to your aunt.”

Sansa was often scared and worried, but she did her best to show a brave face, though she faced away from Sandor.

“Alright. What should I say?”

Sandor chuckled and grunted in reply,

“I’m sure you’ll think of something little bird.”

***

Queen Cersei sat idly on the Iron Throne, gazing at her fingernails. They were much too short to do any useful damage.

Unless it was to her brothers bare back amidst their nightly dances.

She smiled to herself and her eyes fluttered shut as she relived the previous night they’d shared. Despite all the stress over the Starks she’d had the last few days, he always was able to provide her with what she needed.

“Perfect.”

“What is it sweet sister?”

Jamie’s voice drew her attention from her thoughts of him,

“Oh it’s nothing dear brother, simply thinking lovely thoughts. Have we received the Hound’s raven yet? Has he found the Stark girl? And have our forest troops found the younger one? The rather boyish looking one?”

Cersei grimaced at the thought of Arya Stark, whom would have likely been the most difficult to wed off. Luckily with the change in plans and dissolving of the Stark alliance, she no longer had to worry about that.

Jamie ducked his head,

“I’m afraid not. But that’s nothing to worry about. It is a few days ride into the forest, and we know not how far the girls got.”

Cersei snorted,

“You know neither of them is used to living in the wilderness, no matter how harsh the northern winters were; they lived inside walls and with a roof. Perhaps the monster that dwells in the forest got to them first and the Hound will simply bring back their bones.”

Though she was merely joking, Cersei secretly hoped this was not so, for only she knew the monster was a rumor started to keep away their enemies.

Jamie shrugged and moved closer to rest his hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into his touch, welcoming it.

“All I know for certain is that if anyone returns, it will be the Hound. He has never failed me, and if he does, well, at least we’ll save money on a funeral.”

Cersei smiled tightly at the thought, and then stood, still holding Jamie’s hand to her, as she moved to kiss him on the cheek,

“Come with me dear brother, I have need of your presence.”

Jamie ducked his head again, and nodded.

He still wasn’t used to the fact they could now freely proclaim their love for one another, or at least, not hide the affection he liked to show her outside closed doors, with linked hands, and secret smiles.

He followed her eagerly, like a lion cub.

He was and always would be _her_ knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming up next time....we'll be meeting a couple other central characters!


	11. Chapter 11

Deep in the Kingswood, a shorter than average height man was perched in a tree, trying his best to shoot at a deer that stood several yards away.

“Seven hells. Stand still a bit longer.”

The man pulled back the string of his bow, and loosed the arrow, which flew straight and true, hitting the deer right in the heart.

“Excellent. Fresh meat for dinner.”

He climbed down from his tall perch and made his way over to the slain animal, but was not the first to arrive.

“Ah, of course. You would show up just after I did all the hard work.”

The figure snorted and shook its head before speaking.

“The hard work is just beginning. Now we have to skin and gut it before even thinking about eating it.”

Tyrion Lannister, formally known as the monster in the woods, as he had helped encourage that rumor for his own protection and safety of his livelihood, looked up at the girl, for it was none other than Arya Stark and rolled his eyes,

“There is no ‘we,’ you will be skinning and gutting it. I showed you how on the last deer. It’s your turn.”

Arya shrugged,

“I guess that means I get the _lion’s_ share then.”

Tyrion chuckled, reaching over to cuff her on the arm,

“Good one. I guess you would be correct.”

 

Arya had left barely a day before Sansa had been forced to escape, and on discovering the legend of the monster in the woods was simply a fairy tale, she had been forced to ask Tyrion if she could stay with him. She had no means to survive, and had not been able to steal a weapon before leaving Kings Landing.

Reluctantly the dwarf had agreed, and they had formed an amicable partnership, for each other’s safety and protection. The two outlaws had become allies and friends. Tyrion was surprised at how much he enjoyed her company, and she would never admit it, but he was her favorite Lannister.

Tyrion had stumbled upon a small cabin in the woods to the side of a clearing with a massive tree, and that was where they both resided, when not out hunting, or in Arya’s case, exploring.

Though she would never admit it, over the firelight that night, as the freshly butchered deer roasted slowly, Tyrion could see the worry in Arya’s eyes. She worried for her sister.

They had both heard the news, and when Arya had told him all she knew about the plot to destroy the Starks, Tyrion couldn’t deny how much it sounded like his dear old sister.

She wasn’t above killing anyone for power.

Arya had insisted Sansa was smart enough, and would be fine out there, but deep down, she knew different. Sansa was the personification of elegance, and a quite spirit.

She would have a hard time adjusting to the life of an outlaw, which was what any and all surviving Starks now were, at least within a hundred miles of Kings Landing.

***

“See that? Those are the towers of the castle Riverrun. That is our destination, if your lovely aunt’s guards do not have us slain before reaching the foot of the grounds.”

Sansa’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in a gasp,

“You think they would attack us?”

Sandor shrugged,

“It is quite possible, they have no forewarning of our arrival, and by now news of the slaughter of your family will have them thinking you are dead. They will see me and wonder why I have come so far, and so alone.”

Sansa squared her shoulders, and tried to look strong,

“Then you should let me go first, leading Stranger. I can walk a bit; I am weary of riding anyway. I hardly remember my aunt, but pray she recognizes me.”

Sandor snorted, and reluctantly let her down from the saddle,

“With your hair, just like your mothers, she will think you the spitting image of Catelyn. Make no mistake. You are right, you should go first.”

A few more hours’ journeying brought them to the foot of the castle, and surprisingly, they had not been accosted or stopped by any guards.

Until they reached the great doors of the gate. Sansa looked up the height of the walls and gulped. She knew the castle had defense methods that could drown any potential invaders, and create an island of Riverrun castle.

She could only hope they would not do so without great need.

Sandor leaned down and whispered to her,

“They see us, and they can hear us, you must speak. Greet your aunt, the lady Regent.”

Sansa coughed, and cleared her throat, summoning all of her courage,

“Greetings Lady Lysa! It is I, Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Stark, formerly of this house. Please grant me and my protector entrance. We must speak to you.”

Shouting voices could be heard in response, but not aimed directly at them.

Moments later, the enormous gate began to open, the heavy doors swinging outward, and Sandor directed Stranger to step back, along with his firm grip on Sansa’s shoulder.

“Looks like we made it. They aren’t shooting at us.”

Sansa looked up at him, and a ghost of a sad smile played about her lips,

“I doubt they would want to kill the last remaining relative of their ruler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe, you didn't think you wouldn't be seeing Tyrion or Arya now did you?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is slightly erm...*cough* earns the rating a bit i guess.

It was amazing how easily Daenerys had managed to charm the rulers of the richest city in the desert. Jorah suspected that perhaps one ruler in particular might be taking the way she acted a bit too much to heart.

When Daenerys came to wake him for dinner, the third night they had been sheltered and had slept well in the city, Jorah was speechless.

She was wearing a golden dress, with turquoise shimmering fabric in the skirt, and pure gold spun clasps on each shoulder. She looked like a Goddess.

As she approached where he lay beneath the silken sheets of cotton, he actually shrunk back, against the cushions.

She twirled slowly, and gazed at him with an innocently curious smile,

“What do you think? It was a present from the grand Maester.”

Jorah gulped, and prayed that his brain could control the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm his good manners.

“You look lovely as the morning sunrise my princess.”

Daenerys blushed prettily, and continued twirling, somewhat absentmindedly moving towards the balcony.

“I think you are confused about the time of day Ser. Perhaps I should open the curtains, and then the setting sunlight would help you wake up faster and return you to your right mind.”

“No need for that princess. I can see just fine. It is not my exhaustion that keeps me abed. It is the fact I must not be clothed as I am in your presence. You should leave, so that I may dress for dinner.”

Daenerys stopped mid-twirl, and her face looked shocked.

“You wish me to leave? You command me? Must I remind you again that-“

Jorah’s head fell into his hands, and he shook it,

“I meant no offense my princess. I just do not wish to do you a dishonor.”

Daenerys’ eyes flashed at him in anger,

“I will do as I please. You may dress in my presence. You may also stop addressing me as ‘princess,’ and call me by name. Since you insist on falling upon my bad graces, you might as well do it all the way.”

Jorah inhaled swiftly, and threw back the covers, moving to stand.

“As you wish, Daenerys.”

His jaw was tense with his frustration at her, but almost immediately his propriety overtook his slack in judgment.

The instant he had moved, Daenerys had pinned him with a stare, and her eyes had slipped below his waist. All thoughts of scolding him for daring to neglect her title, and more, daring to use her first name, slipped away from her mind.

He had tried to warn her. He had slept naked.

The way she had swept into his room, in her current attire, had only made his arousal grow from waking up after dreaming of her.

A fierce blush darkened her pale cheeks, and she quickly turned away, facing the balcony, as her voice, sounding as shaky and breathless as Jorah felt, replied,

“You may now dress.”

***

Jorah avoided Daenerys’ gaze as they walked amongst the gardens of their host. They listened as Xaro began waxing poetic about how the great city had come to be, and Daenerys blushed as he mentioned her, calling her their angel. The knight couldn’t hide his own heated cheeks as the man moved to put his arm around Daenerys, pulling her away from Jorah.

She would have to accept their host’s unspoken offer of matrimony, if they were to remain under his protection.

Jorah did not care for his own safety, but the safety of his princess was forefront on his mind. He frowned at his own thoughts. She was not _his._ She likely would _never_ be. He was being utterly foolish.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos suddenly turned to face Daenerys, and fell on one knee before her, a small gleaming object held out,

“Will you take my hand? And join my side as queen of Qarth?”

Daenerys was speechless, and she looked around for Jorah, wishing desperately she had not gotten so angry with him. Would he want to rescue her now?

The fading sun shone on her white blond hair, which fell about her face, hiding her distress, as she gazed at the ground, fumbling on her words.

“Such an offer, I don’t know how-“

“-To accept. She must have a day to consider it. She had no definite plans to remain in this glorious city, your honor.”

Jorah’s calm voice broke through the fog in Daenerys’ mind, and she smiled softly, looking back up to meet Xaro’s questioning stare. Jorah stepped beside her, and placed a possessively protective hand on her shoulder. She did not stir, nor protest.

The man rose to his feet again, and nodded,

“Very well. I will honor your request Daenerys Targaryn. Tomorrow night I shall require an answer.”

Without another word, the tall man had vanished from the garden, and Jorah retreated from Daenerys’ side. They were left alone in the garden, and Jorah now stood a few feet from his princess, who looked more lost than when she had come to him after her brother’s proposal.

Irony was a cruel mistress.


	13. Chapter 13

The morning sun broke through the window, and made Sansa Stark’s hair resemble a raging fire, that had been tamed and lay across white silk.

She stirred slowly, and before her eyes opened completely, she felt the aches and pains in her back as after a long horse ride.

Now fully awake, she sat up quickly, and the events of the last few days returned to the forefront of her mind.

She had escaped King’s Landing, and could possibly be the last of the Starks.

Her mother’s sister had been gracious, and allowed her and Sandor Clegane to stay in her castle, for as long as Sansa deemed necessary.

Sansa had fallen before her aunt, and kissed the hem of her dress, but her aunt had reached down, touched her cheek, and told her to rise.

She was as good as royalty among the people of the Riverlands.

Sandor had spared her a brief glance, before being hastened on to his own room in the magnificent castle.

Sansa rose from the bed and paced about her room. Her only worry now was if she should return to Kings landing, to try and overthrow Cersei. Would she be able to convince anyone to fight with her, much less for her?

Her little sister could do it. Arya had an inner fire, a spirit and love of combat Sansa never would.

Sansa fell to her knees, wincing as the stone bit into her skin, and she prayed to the gods, old and new, that her sister still lived.

***

Sandor was currently sitting amongst the court, speaking with a few men almost as large as himself. It seemed they had been planning on paying the good king and queen regent of Kings Landing a visit rather soon, without any other reason in mind than revenge for their beloved queen’s sister.

Sansa walked in, and a hush fell over the room, as she glanced about in surprise, the queen rose from her throne, arms extended,

“My dear sweet niece. I’m so glad you could join us. We were just pondering how to plan a visit to your former guardian’s home.”

Her kind smile became slightly twisted, and Sansa looked away, suddenly shy around so many strange faces.

She looked about and picked out Sandor from the crowd, and threw a desperate look his way.

He coughed, and excused himself from his current conversation, making his way over to the extremely fragile looking Stark girl.

“What the little bird won’t tell you is that she has no mind for violence. That should be left up to your highness and your court. Let Sansa mourn in peace and serenity.”

The queen raised her eyebrows in surprise, but slowly nodded.

“You are wise. I was too quick to think she was so much like her mother.”

Sansa jerked her head up in defiance,

“I _am_ like my mother, I just don’t wish to return there, even with an army.”

“But you must my child. Otherwise they will call you a coward.”

The queen frowned at her, and looked up to Sandor, hoping he would come to her defense.

“He who chooses not to fight cannot be branded a coward. Perhaps he is not a warrior.”

Sansa was stunned to hear such words coming from ‘the Hound’s mouth.

“In this case you mean ‘she,’ do you not?”

Sandor grinned, and his face seemed to grow younger with the movement,

“Yes of course your highness. I mean our little bird.”

The queen smiled kindly at Sansa once more,

“’Little bird?’ what a curious nickname.”

“You should see her scale a tree. Then you would understand.”

***

Khal Drogo had tracked the young princess and her old knight protector to the high walls of Qarth. His orders were to bring them both back, alive preferably, not necessary in the case of Mormont.

But he knew the walls of the desert oasis would be impenetrable. Perhaps he could just knock.

He raised a large fist to the enormous wooden door and was surprised to hear a voice calling out to him.

“What is your name stranger? What business do you have at the gates of Qarth?”

Khal smiled, a peculiar expression to grace his mouth,

“I have come to join the guard of the dragon princess. The dragon prince sends his regards.”

The man who had spoken to him seemed a bit stunned, and took a few moments before replying,

“You may enter. But be cautious, the council will not take kindly to being made a fool if you are lying.”

Khal swept into a deep mock bow, and shook his head,

“I assure you, I mean every word.”

The large wooden gates began to creak, and slowly moved outward, opening to the desert, and Khal growled quietly, at last a stroke of luck.


	14. Chapter 14

Daenerys was not sure why she felt so trapped.  She was being given plenty of space to roam the garden by Jorah.

He knew she wanted room to think, to mull over Xaro's proposal.  


But it was as if she was being sold to the highest bidder, just like Viserys had tried to do back home.

 

Except there was only one bidder.  


He was also the only reason she and her knight still lived.  
  
"My lady? Is there anything I can get you?"  


Jonah's comforting voice wafted towards her from her left, and where he stood pretending to admire a cluster of purple flowers.  


He was actually watching her, carefully, making sure she did not come to any harm, whether from the plants or from herself.  


"Please, call me Daenerys. After what we have been through, how far we have traveled, there is no point to such formality any longer. Until I have married a king or warrior, I am just a lost princess with no kingdom."  


Jorah only listened for a moment, appreciating her shift in mood, before his training kicked in; his princess and he were not alone in the garden.  


Not anymore.  
  
Daenerys felt Jorah brush against her back, and was torn between melting into him and slipping back into full princess manner, declaring that he did not have her permission to touch her, but then he was stepping in front of her, and drawing his sword with one hand, while the other reached back to make sure he completely concealed her from view.  


"Who goes there? Show yourself!"  


The drawn blade shimmered in the daylight like a handful of diamonds, as Valyrian steel was prone to do, as a large figure emerged from the shadows.   


Dark eyes, black as pitch were shrouded by equally dark eyebrows leading to a broad forehead framed by long braided hair.  


A grin spread across the man's face as he flexed his impressive arm muscles, a broad blade clutched casually in each hand,  


"Greetings Ser Jorah, and I would speak with the princess if she is about."

 

The sarcasm was not lost on the knight.  


Jorah growled and jerked his head towards Daenerys,  


"Until you tell me who you are and why you are spying on us, I have no motivation to let you even see her, much less speak to her."  


Drogo cocked an eyebrow in surprise, for of course it was he, and gave a low bow.  


"Certainly. I am Khal Drogo, commander of the Dothraki army, here on orders from prince Viserys. I have come to return the Princess to her home."  


Jorah swallowed, and though he was not eager to believe the warrior before them, he knew that Daenerys would not part from him to ever go home with a stranger.  


"And if she refuses?"  


Drogo snapped his teeth and took a fighting stance,  


"No one refuses me. I will slay you where you stand, and _then_ we shall depart. I do not need to bring you to the prince alive. That was not part of the agreement."  


Jorah rolled his eyes, even as a shiver went down his spine at the thought of Daenerys being in the company of the savage who wished to return her to her insane brother.  


"Lucky me."  


He felt Daenerys stiffen behind him, and she gripped his arm with tight fingers, conveying her message easily.  


"Stay back, and stay hidden. This man would not dare kill an honored guest of Xaro Xhoan Daxos." He spoke to her quietly, and she was barely comforted.

 

A deep booming voice startled the group, and Drogo looked to see a formidable figure striding towards him, this must be the aforementioned Xaro council member.

“Who are you? What are you doing inside my city walls?”

Drogo bowed again, and sheathed his blades,

“I am merely a messenger sent by the prince Viserys, he wished to inform you that Daenerys is wanted home, in Pentos.”

Jorah gave Daenerys a sideways glance, and shook his head just slightly, he could sense she was itching to speak, to condemn the warrior’s lies, but it would do them no good.

Xaro looked wounded, and turned to Daenerys,

“What is your wish my princess?”

Jorah clenched his jaw so tight he saw stars; the arrogance of their host was astonishing.

Daenerys tried to avoid looking at the warrior, practically her brother’s pet, who had been sent to drag her home, and smiled at Xaro,

“I wish nothing more than to please you. With your blessing however, I would desire greatly to return home, as long as my knight, my companion can remain in your beautiful city, under your protection.”

Jorah was not rendered speechless often, but that moment was the rarest instance.

He did not remain silent for long, but before he could protest, Xaro had nodded, and taken Daenerys’ small pale hand in his large dark one,

“It would be my pleasure. Consider it done. You and your new guardian will be free to leave whenever you desire, and I will gladly provide horses and provisions for your long journey. No need for you to arrive home at death’s door.”

Daenerys had the funny feeling that she would be in that situation regardless, but she was grateful for the city councilman’s kindness.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three separate 3rd person POV's in this chap...so it might be a bit confusing

“Where is that rat faced fool of a nephew of mine?”

Tyrion muttered from atop the highest tree in Kingswood, squinting through the branches, to observe the distant square of Kings Landing.

It was a well kept secret that the banished Lannister sibling had remarkable eyesight, and was an impressive bowsman, equal to his brother’s skill with a sword.

But the advantage of knowing a bow and arrow like the back of your hand meant not needing to approach your enemy.

He could kill a man without ever being seen.

“Probably beating up some whore in his attempt to become a great lover. At your sister’s request no doubt.”

Tyrion laughed aloud and smiled broadly at his treetop companion, who was clinging to the branches just a few feet below him. For once, he towered over the youngest surviving Stark.

“Tell me Arya, do you think I should let you kill him, or should I give that honor to your sister?”

The light and cheery mood that had permeated the branches along with a warm breeze, a kind respite from the brutal and cold early fall, vanished at the mention of her sister.

“Sansa? She could be dead, just like everyone thinks I am.”

Tyrion sobered, and shrugged, though he knew she could not see him.

“My dear cub, knowing something is true, and thinking it is, are two vastly different things. You are the prime example, and I am the second. My siblings thought I couldn’t possibly survive out here, much less thrive as I have with your company. So fear not. I have high hopes your elder sister is as resilient as you, and hopefully as eager for revenge as we both are.”

Arya snorted, another feature that kept her far from the title of ‘Lady,’ and climbed up to perch beside the estranged Lannister sibling,

“If I’m a cub, what does that make you?”

Tyrion wasn’t sure if he was to be the brunt of a dwarf joke, or if Arya was merely trying to apologize for dampening the mood.

“A small lion?” He ventured, and was rewarded with a half smile, and before he could blink, Arya’s mouth had become a flat line again, and she was slowly descending down the tree.

“Dinner’s on you then, mighty lion!”

Tyrion rolled his eyes, and moved to follow her.

***                                                      

The instant Khal Drogo and Daenerys were out of sight of Qarth, he moved his horse parallel to hers and grasped its reins, halting their movement.

Daenerys tried to be brave, but she was frightened by this sudden shift in pace.

“What are you doing?”

Her voice held all her courage, for she felt none.

Khal smiled darkly, or perhaps he smirked. She could not decide which was more unsettling.

“I think you know why I’m here. I’m not escorting you home. I’m _taking_ you home so your brother can give you to me. He’s promised you to be wed to me, so long as you return home unharmed.”

Daenerys’ mouth fell open in a silent gasp. First her brother thought to force her to marry him, now she was being sold off to his army commander?

“But, why would he?”

Khal laughed, a deep dangerous sound,

“You silly girl, he fancies himself ruler of the seven kingdoms. But first he must cross the Narrow Sea, and then once he makes landfall at Kings Landing, he’ll need someone loyal to help him take it. Surely you know your own blood, he is no soldier. Whereas, he will have my men to command if we wed.”

Daenerys wasn’t about to argue that, but when Drogo approached her, drawing his sword, she flinched away,

“You just said you wouldn’t hurt me!”

Khal shrugged,

“We’ll travel faster if we don’t have to stop, the only way to ensure that, is to knock you out. Forgive me, _my lady._ ”

The mocking tone of his voice barely prepared her as he flipped his blade around and whacked the back of her head with the handle.

She only saw darkness after that.

Khal sniffed, before reaching across to throw her across his lap. She would not move, and he could still reach his sword if necessary. He smacked her horse on its rump, and it began galloping back to Qarth.

That should send her little knight a message.

“Don’t kidnap princesses who don’t belong to you.”

Or something of that manner.

***

“Where do you think they are?”

Jamie Lannister mumbled his query into Cersei’s bare skin as he lay beside her, his eyes still fighting to open after a long and languorous morning of coupling.

The mere mention of Sansa Stark, and what had become of her Hound set Cersei’s teeth on edge.

“I don’t care. I hope they’re both dead by now.”

Jamie shrugged, and traced mindless words and pictures across her back, shifting aside golden locks of her hair when they got in his path.

“It’s possible they’ve been dead a while now, or perhaps they were attacked by bandits. The point is, nothing stands in your way. The throne is yours, forever.”

Cersei frowned,

“Ours, you mean? But tell me, what happens when you die? When I begin to age?”

“That will never happen. Now that the Starks are dead.”

Cersei shook his hands away, frustration and anger replacing any lingering feelings of pleasure.

  
“I don’t know that anymore. I still don’t know for certain where the youngest bitch is.”

Jamie chuckled, and the sound vibrated through his chest, and spread across Cersei’s skin like a pleasant shock,

“I think I know where she is. Rotting in hell with our dear brother.”

Cersei finally smiled at that.

“Yes. I like the sound of that. The lion runt and the wolf bitch. Together in hell.”


	16. Chapter 16

Kingswood wasn’t exactly hell, in fact, Arya would almost say she preferred it to a stone castle, but she knew her companion wouldn’t admit that. He’d gotten too much of a taste for finery before leaving home.

At the moment, however, he would say finery was the last thing on his mind. Tyrion Lannister marched back to his and Arya’s base camp with a scrap of parchment clutched in his fist, delivered by a lone raven.

The raven had flown near a hundred miles, from Riverrun.

“Arya!”

Tyrion’s voice carried high and far, reaching where Arya sat perched in a tree, her usual haunt, as she watched deer move about.

“Shut it dwarf. I’m trying to get us some dinner.”

Tyrion merely rolled his eyes, before shouting again.

“Get down here, before I have to come up there myself.”

Ayra’s laugh echoed around the woods, reminiscent of a cats howling.

“I’d love to see you try.”

She complied eventually, sliding down the tree much faster than Tyrion could have thought possible.

“Alright, what is it that’s so important?”

Tyrion held out the scrap, wordlessly.

The mirth and teasing vanished from Arya’s face as she read.

“Is this true?”

She’d finished rather quickly, and before Tyrion knew it, she’d thrust the paper beneath his nose, and he was beginning to go cross eyed. 

“As far as I know, yes. They have no reason to lie to me. After all, I’m not exactly on the best of terms with my family.”

Arya managed a small smile,

“Tell me about it some more. I forgot.”

Tyrion opened his mouth, intent on complying, if only in jest, and she smacked his arm.

“But truly! This is wonderful news. Much as I never liked Sansa, she’s all I’ve got now. If she’s alive, and with the Hound, which is insanity at its finest, than perhaps we have a chance. We could take Kings Landing, and they’d never know what hit them.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes again, this time at the utter audacity of her words. He admired her bravery, always had, and always would, but sometimes she leapt a bit ahead of herself.

“The four of us ruffians? Take on the entire castle? Well, I think I’ll sit this one out. Wait for some proper mad men to come around and entertain me with mad stories. Oh wait, that’s the court jester’s job. Are you my new court jester?”

Arya looked annoyed,

“Don’t be stupid. I do mean it. They think we’re all dead. We’d just be ghosts. Four ghosts, come to haunt the ones who killed us. Proper revenge I’d say.”

Tyrion shook his head,

“Never fight for revenge. It leads to hot heads and bloody hands. You’ll get yourself killed, for what? For your family’s honor? No. You can honor them by living, defying your captors.”

Ayra groaned in frustration,

“I AM surviving! But hiding out in the forest isn’t doing anyone any good! The Lannisters need to be destroyed.”

Tyrion raised his hands,

“You won’t hear an argument from me Arya. But please think carefully. What would be our best way to succeed? What have you trained for?”

Arya attempted to calm herself.

“Stealth. Stealth and caution.”

Tyrion nodded.

“So to succeed, we would need three things. A good plan, a way in, and a distraction to hide the execution of our plan.”

Arya frowned,

“That’s four things.”

Tyrion shrugged,

“So I’m a dwarf who can’t count. Sue me.”

“I’d be rich.”

“A Lannister always pays his debts.”

Tyrion nudged her in the side and she cracked a smile.

“So about dinner…”

 

***

 

Sandor was growing rapidly edgy, and the aggressive pacing he was currently completing around the room was threatening to wear away the stone beneath his feet.

“Do you think it made it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You must be.”

“I can’t know until we receive a reply!”

“Of course you can. If you believe your sister is alive, then it made it.”

Sansa was more concerned about the letter falling into the wrong hands, rather than Lady Tully’s word that she did indeed keep in semiannual contact with the banished Lannister.

All thought him dead, including Sansa and the Hound, so they had been supremely astonished when Lady Tully suggested informing him of their arrival, and the mere fact the Stark line had not ended in Kings Landing.

Sansa had cried the entire night after the raven had been sent, but now, with clear skies visible, there was no excuse for the letter not having been delivered.

“Well, I think-“

Her negative protests were cut off by the shouts that echoed below them, down in the main square of the castle.

Sandor moved as quickly as possible to the balcony to shout down the question, and the sight of a pitch black bird perched on the arm of its caregiver was sign enough.

“It made it. And it has returned.”

Sansa felt her eyes sting, with tears of joy or because she was so relieved, she wasn’t certain.

***

The news that her sister was alive, and more than that, thriving with the protection of the youngest Lannister was the most surprising of all.

When Sandor suggested they begin a journey to the Kingswood to attempt to find them, Sansa was overwhelmed.

“Would that be safe?”

Sandor shrugged,

“We’re thought dead. What harm can it do? Perhaps the little lion has an idea of how to defeat his siblings. What have we to lose?”

Sansa moved towards him, whether she hoped to reason with him, or even simply try to use her wiles on him, Sandor was unsure. Why he did not retreat when she did thus was even more confusing. Her wiles were already at work, he presumed.

“Everything! We barely escaped here! I almost died. You were to kill me, you disobeyed those orders, and became a traitor.”

Sandor shrugged,

“One can be a traitor to the Lannisters for less than that. We’re being protected by traitors.”

“Please don’t throw everything away on this whim for revenge.”

Sandor grinned at her, and was delighted to see her flinch back,

“Did you think we’d be returning alone?”

“If you think I’m ready to command an army-“

“I never said you would be. They’re being commanded by their Lady master. You’re just of the same blood. They’ll listen to you certainly, but first and foremost, they need a leader. That isn’t you little bird.”

Sansa wasn’t sure what to make of that, until she realized just how many people considered the Lannisters their enemy, Tully’s included.

She couldn’t say she felt much better with the idea of returning to Kings Landing alone, or with a small army.

She didn’t want more people to die.

She couldn’t say if she liked the idea of leading men to battle either.  
  



	17. Conclusion: part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next to the last chapter, this first part of the conclusion has the resolution of Sansa and Arya's story...

A long few days passed, before Viserys heard the announcement of visitors at the gate.

“Let them in!”

He rushed down to the courtyard to greet his returned warrior and his most prized possession.

The words died in his throat as he took in the sight of Khal Drogo, riding a horse black as pitch, and the only flash of color was Daenerys’ unconscious form draped across his saddle and lap.

“What have you done to her?”

Viserys’ voice was barely above a whisper, and he watched the warrior dismount, still clutching Daenerys,

“She would have protested so much more had I not done what I did. She’ll be fine in another day. Check her yourself, no wounds, no injuries. She’s fine and healthy, if a bit dehydrated.”

If Viserys had not been angry at his only ally, he would have ordered him killed.

He nodded tersely at a servant, who hurried forward to take the unconscious princess to a more suitable resting place.

“What happened?” He hissed at Drogo between tight lips.

The prince’s commander shrugged,

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Your sister was being forced to ally with the ruler of Qarth, and she was with her knight.”

“Mormont?”

“Yes. I would assume so. She called him that, and her _companion_.”

Viserys set his jaw,

“Of course. Gods know what he’s done to her since I last saw her. I know very well he fancies himself in love with her. The old fool.”

Khal eyed him carefully,

“But she will be mine before the next moon phase?”

Viserys smiled at him, the expression reminiscent of a snake,

“Of course. As we agreed. Thank you for your speedy retrieval, I have arranged for you to stay in a new en-suite inside the city.”

Viserys gestured to where two cloaked servants stood, and when they bowed to him, and began walking away, Drogo followed, somewhat reluctant.

“I shall see you in two days Khal.”

The Prince’s words did not assure the warrior, but he nodded, and followed the quickly retreating servants.

Viserys turned back to the castle, and rubbed his hands against one another, until they burned like fire.

“Now sister, we will be speaking at length about your little stunt.”

***

Jorah wasn’t on familiar terms with what dying felt like, but he knew that it had to be close to what was running through his mind at the moment.

He’d glanced up from his momentary slip into the land of dreamless sleep when he heard the sound of hoofbeats.

He stood up straight on the Qarth walls, and looked down to see a plain white horse, rider less and looking exhausted.

It had been Princess Daenerys’ horse.

His blood ran cold, and he began to run.

He was leaving Qarth and going after Drogo and the Princess, and heavens help the man who stood in his way.

***

A hand stroked her cheek, and she smiled slowly, afraid to open her eyes and discover she was truly dreaming.

“Jorah? Is that you?” Daenerys realized it was quite improper to be having such dreams about her knight, her guardian, but what harm did it cause?

When the hand pulled away, she frowned, but when it returned to slap across her face, and her skin burned, her eyes snapped open.

She gasped.

It had _not_ been her knight’s hand, but her brothers’.

She’d been asleep for too long, and awoken to find herself in a nightmare.

“Viserys! What are you doing?”

She clutched her hand to her cheek in shocked outrage, even as she saw his temper flare, and his cruel mouth curve into a smile.

“Oh, so nice of you to join me. Here I was thinking I’d have to wake you with a much more unpleasant method. Well, unpleasant for you.”

He gave her a look that made her skin crawl, and she shifted away from him, scooting as far back on the bed as possible.

He only stood up and moved closer again.

“Going somewhere? Oh that’s right, now you haven’t got your precious knight to save you. You’re all mine for the next few days, until Drogo comes to claim you.”

Daenerys’ eyes widened,

“Why have you sold me to some bloodthirsty savage?”

Viserys tutted, and reached out to grip her chin, painfully forcing her to meet his gaze, icy blue eyes searing into her violet ones.

“Because I can. Because he’s going to help me conquer all the land over and around the sea. Because I rather like him. If I wanted to, I would let his entire army defile you. But lucky for you, I’m selfish. I want you to myself. At least, for the first few times. Then perhaps I _will_ let his army have you. Once he’s finished with you.”

Daenerys could see the madness in his eyes, and she knew her leaving had only driven him further over the edge. He terrified her. The sleeping dragon was awake, and would never again retreat.

She shifted underneath his grip, and he caught the expression on her face. She’d been hoping and praying that she would wake up soon, but she was beginning to understand this was all too real.

When Viserys moved to kiss her, she tried to turn her head, doing her best last ditch effort to avoid him, but suddenly she felt cold steel kiss her throat first.

“Try anything, and I’ll slit your throat, sister.”

Daenerys felt bold,

“If you kill me, you won’t get to keep your army.”

Viserys growled against her ear, and he sounded like a snarling dragon to her fear addled mind,

“You’re right, but I can still hurt you without spilling a drop of blood.” The knife shifted in his hand, and he jerked the blade down, shredding the clasp of her dress, and she felt the night air caress her skin. Goosebumps rose all over her body, and not from a chill.

Viserys leered at her, before he yanked away the rest of the offending garment.

“Now, may I have this dance?”

***

As Sansa and Sandor approached the Kingswood, with the small battalion, courtesy of Lady Tully, in their wake, she couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious.

She’d not seen Arya in months, and though held no resentment towards her, she wasn’t certain how the feelings would be reciprocated.

Sandor held up a hand, halting the group, and listened intently.

The singing of birds in the air was all that anyone could hear, and they progressed on.

Eventually they came to a small clearing, inside which grew an enormous tree, full of hanging sacks and two hammocks, just behind it was a small squat cabin. It looked quite inhabited.

Sansa fought back the grin threatening to explode across her face.

The treehouse simply screamed Arya.

She knew if they’d gotten to the clearing alive, Arya already knew they were there.

“Sansa!”

A high voice broke through the bird song and the general calm of the air, and Sandor growled, raising a fist to halt the progression again.

“Who is that?”

“Who do you think dumbo?”

Arya Stark swung down from a nearby tree, sword in hand, but her face completely beaming.

“Welcome to my home!”

Sansa rushed forwards to embrace her, and Ayra nearly dropped her sword in surprise.

Her sister looked different, but in so many good ways. She was taller, her hair was longer, and she looked surprisingly well fed for having been living in the forest with only one other ally.

“Arya, I thought you were dead.”

“I thought the same.” Sansa heard her whisper.

“Well this is touching.”

Tyrion swaggered into view, and the Hound merely grunted in acknowledgement.

“You?”

Another grunt.

“Well this will certainly make someone’s day in Kings Landing.”

“Me living?”

Tyrion shook his head,

“No, you working with them.”

He pointed to the Riverrun clan, and Sandor shrugged,

“They volunteered.”

“Ah. They volunteered for Lannister gold?”

Sandor shook his head,

“They volunteered to serve the Stark name, and when there’s a Stark on the throne, they will continue to serve.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, and looked over at the Stark sisters, who had finally separated.

“Oh? And which one are they loyal to?”

Sandor chuckled,

“Does it matter? We’re ending the Lannister rule, first thing tomorrow morning. Are you with us?”

Tyrion smirked,

“As if I would dare go against you and your merry band of outlaws.”

“Don’t be cheeky.”

Arya snarked back at him, and the dwarf merely shrugged.

“Do I tell you not to climb trees?”

***

The fall of Kings Landing, and the defeat of the evil queen Cersei would be a legend retold for centuries. The taking of the throne by the remaining Starks would be an even more famous tale.

The truth was, neither really wanted to rule. But they had thousands of starving subjects to take care of, and hundreds more losses to be mourned.

The kingdom of Westeros was a solemn place to be the first years of its reign, but when Winter finally ended, a new Spring began to dawn.

Queen Sansa Stark chose to rule over the northernmost part of the kingdom, and Queen Arya Stark gladly took the southernmost half.

Both served for nearly a decade before finding a worthy king to take to their side.

For Sansa, it was a simple choice, the one man who had never failed to protect her, to be loyal and respectful. Sandor Clegane.

For Arya, it was a bit more of fates doing. She had long since been forced to abandon her tree home in exchange for a stuffy castle. But it didn’t mean she could not go back and visit. On one of her visits, she found a man living in the home, a lost and lonely stranger.

He turned out to be one of the bastard sons of the dead king Robert Baratheon.

Despite initially not getting along, she and Gendry, as the man was called, soon began declaring their love for one another. It was a simple matter for her to convince him to leave the tree home and live with her in the castle. Well, perhaps not so simple.

***

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i know it's slightly a cop-out, but i just didn't feel like wasting time on a huge battle scene, because we all know it would have been over as soon as Sansa and Arya and the Hound stepped up.


	18. Conclusion: part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always disliked Viserys' character, but he was never quite as slimy on the show as he is in this story. *shivers in disgust*

While Daenerys lay shivering and fighting the urge to give in to tears, tucked under the silk sheets of her own bed, what she did not know what that Jorah Mormont was riding his horse to death in his effort to return to her side.

Viserys had finally left her after nearly four hours of torment. He’d lain beside her and whispered all he wished to do before he had to give her up to her new husband, and it had taken every ounce of her strength left not to fight him.

She didn’t want to die. Not yet.

If he forced her to that point, she would not allow him to bring about her death.

She could still feel his hands on her, everywhere he’d hit her, and every bruise he’d left on her skin. Whether he’d used his lips, his fingers, or even the dull flat of the blade, she was more than ready to throw herself into a scalding bath in an attempt to cleanse herself, but that was a luxury she would not be afforded until daylight.

By the time the sun finally did rise, she was unsure how she would survive another night like the last. She would have tried to conceal a dagger on her person, but she knew that before she could possibly use it, Viserys would have confiscated it, and punished her severely for what she’d only dreamt about doing.

The bath she was drawn felt like fire, but she only hummed as she sunk beneath the surface, letting it wash away her brothers’ painful grip.

She remained below the surface just a few seconds longer than necessary, and when she rose up and out, she relished the burning feeling of oxygen returning to her lungs.

Was this how it felt to be suicidal?

To be so unafraid of death one might welcome it?

Daenerys Targaryen was unafraid of death.

The wrongful love of her own brother had made her this way.

She might have to thank him when he came to her that night.

Before she could go any further down the path of her thoughts, a sound alerted her, and she emerged from her bath, quickly moving to dry herself.

It sounded like hoof beats.

***

Jorah leapt down from his mount, anger controlling him much as his usual calm. His sword was drawn, and any servant who got in his path quickly moved aside.

He was of one mind, and that was to find Daenerys, and _get her away from_ Viserys.

“Mormont! So good of you to come.”

The lilting voice of the man who was currently highest on his list of ‘to die’ echoed through his mind, clearing the fog just slightly.

“You.”

Viserys stepped out from behind the wall of the castle garden,

“Yes? Can I help you? I seem to recall I fired you. After you kidnapped my sister and ran her off to Qarth. She nearly died out there in the desert.”

Jorah’s smile was dangerous, and Viserys might have been intimidated, had he not long since appointed Khal Drogo to be Jorah’s replacement, as high guard, in addition to serving as commander of his adopted army.

The warrior stepped out beside him, and moved to stand in front of the arrogant prince.

“I would stop right there if I were you.”

Viserys’ voice had taken on a higher note, almost sing-song.

Jorah paused, watching as the dark haired giant blocked his view of the prince.

“Why? What are you going to do? Hide from me, like a child?”

Viserys’ ears turned pink from indignation, a sight which only made Jorah want to roll his eyes.

“How dare you? I am the—”

He spluttered around his words, trying to find a proper comeback, but failing.

“Where is Daenerys?” Jorah finally asked, growing ever tired of the waiting game Viserys seemed to be keen on playing.

“You mean _Princess_ Daenerys don’t you? You’re a commoner now. You must use titles. I can’t help but notice you haven’t addressed me properly. But don’t worry, she’s fine. I think she’s having her morning bath right about now. Shame I missed that. I wish I could have seen her, fresh after waking. She did have rather a long night. I bet she slept in a bit.”

The sickeningly satisfied grin that overtook the prince’s face made Jorah’s blood boil.

His jaw was so tight it began to ache,

“What did you say?”

Viserys shrugged,

“Oh you know. I may have kept her up all night with a bit of, exercise.”

Khal Drogo suddenly understood what he was implying, and turned on the silver haired monarch,

“What do you mean? You promised me she would be pure.”

Viserys visibly paled,

“Well of course she is. I was merely trying to-“

“To cheat me?”

Jorah took advantage of the sudden disinterest in his person to slip around them, and began heading into the castle.

***

Daenerys heard voices, and when she recognized Ser Jorah’s smooth cadence, she could have fainted dead away in relief.

She knew it had been the most difficult thing to let her leave him, and to watch her accompany Khal Drogo back to her monster of a brother, but now that he was here, perhaps there was still hope.

She slipped on a sea green wrap, and made her way down the stairs to the main gardens, where she’d heard the voices.

Halfway down the corridor, she nearly ran into someone going the other way. She braced her hands against their chest, in an attempt to keep from falling.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t-“

“Daenerys!”

She felt strong hands clutch her own and she looked up to see such familiar olive colored eyes staring at her, with concern etched into his features.

Her vision went blurry as she realized who she was standing with.

“Ser Jorah!”

A sob threatened to overcome her voice, she fell silent. But his arms embraced her and words were no longer needed.

He could feel how tense she was, in his arms, as he gently stroked her back with his hands, he felt how she was shaking like a leaf.

“It’s all right. You’re safe now. I’m here.”

“I know, I know, I know.” She mumbled into his chest, unable to believe it was truly him.

He pulled back only to place a reverent kiss on her forehead.

“Where’s Viserys?”

She asked, with her voice barely above a whisper.

Jorah frowned,

“I left him in the very capable hands of a savage warrior. I don’t think I would have the strength to be merciful with him if his fate was left up to me.”

Daenerys bit her lip, and nodded. The tears were coming now; it was pointless to fight them. She began to collapse, for even with Ser Jorah’s strong grip she could feel her knees weakening.

“Please, I need to sit down.”

Jorah nodded, and began to walk swiftly back to her room, half carrying her, half helping her walk also.

When they reached her bed, Jorah lifted her onto the covers, and she fell back against the pillows, she suddenly released her hands from his.

“Thank you Ser Jorah. I am forever in your debt. But please, I need to be alone now. I must think. I have to consider the future of my kingdom. Or lack of.”

Jorah stood immediately, moving away from her. She looked completely exhausted, and even as he’d been half hoping the idle threats and hints Viserys had dropped were merely that, he could see in her expression that something was troubling her.

She had flinched as he’d set her down, and it had not been from any wound he could see.

But as she turned away from him, the pale green wrap she wore, which revealed entirely too much skin for his liking, moved even further down her shoulder, and the shadow of a growing bruise in the shape of a hand was evident.

“Your highness, what is that?”

Daenerys sighed, and looked back around at Ser Jorah,

“It’s nothing. Please go.” Her voice broke as she begged him, and he remained steadfast, not budging an inch.

“What did he do to you?”

It was none of his business, but he wanted to know what he could possibly help with. He ached to be able to erase every mark Viserys had left, to remove any pain.

Daenerys shook her head furiously, and shrank further against the sheets, curling around a single pillow, attempting to disappear into the bed.

 

Maybe that would make the memories go away as well.

They were there. In every inch of fabric covering the bed. Strangled sighs, panting moans, and cries of pain.

The only sounds of satisfaction had been _his_.

She’d only been praying for the end.

 

Daenerys shivered, and Jorah saw the movement.

He walked around the bed, and paused on the other side, watching her face as she realized where he’d gone.

“Talk to me. Let me serve you, my princess.”

Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut, the bright white finally blocking out the sight of those evil memories.

“I can’t. You’ll just be disgusted.”

Jorah sat on the very edge of the bed, and she felt his weight displace the mattress,

“You could never say anything I would not listen to.”

Daenerys dared to open her eyes just a crack, and as she saw him watching her, patient concern and unashamed devotion in his eyes, she finally felt the dam break.

He pulled her into his arms again as she told him what had been done.

His gentle hand caressed her face, and brushed away her tears. It was as it should have been before, when she’d been half dreaming. She pushed her cheek against his hand, letting the warmth seep into her skin. She was still unsure about this. How could she know this was real?

There was only one way to find out.

Daenerys moved up to press her lips against his. She felt the scratch of his whiskers tickle below her nose, and the scruff of his beard against her chin.

The astonished breath he drew in was the last sign, and she knew finally.

Her knight was here, he’d found her.

Maybe he’d been too late to save her from the monster, but it was not too late to leave bad memories behind.

He held her close, his arms encircling her fragile form, and let her drift into a dreamless sleep in his arms.

She was his princess, and he was her protector, now and forever.

As long as she’d let him, he’d be there.

***

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this truly is the final chapter of the most staggering story i think i've ever written. It turned out so differently than i had planned initially. All to think, it's all GirlsAreWolves' fault! :D I hope you've enjoyed it, and please let me know in the comments. If you prefer modern AU style, check out my other stories for this fandom!


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